Strange Travel Companions
by Punzie the Platypus
Summary: Mary and Edith travel alone together through Britain on their way to Dublin, Ireland, for Sybil's wedding. They face the truth of their own love lives in light of their sister's, and realize there is comfort in solidarity. 'They were naturally rivaling, teasing, bitter sisters from childhood, but then, extenuating circumstances makes strange travel companions of us all.'


**_Soli Deo gloria_**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Downton Abbey.**

Mama stood with the servants upon the stone-covered driveway as they set Mary and Edith off to Sybil's wedding; Papa remained in his study. He was dutiful, not at all cold and unfeeling as he kissed his daughters' cheeks farewell, but he would not stand with the servants and give full support to the endeavor that stood in front of them.

While it was perfectly within Papa's rights to do as he pleased regarding welcoming Tom Branson in as the first of three sons-in-law, Mary and Edith could not follow in his own feelings. Anna and Mrs. Hughes packed up their suitcases, which now sat on the chugging car's back trunk. They'd hired a temporary chauffeur, though Edith said, "If I was not one of us to be dropped off at the train station, I should like to have been the driver."

Mary privately thought how lovely it would've been to have Edith only as her companion on the ten-minute drive to the train station and then complete the rest of the journey to Dublin all by herself, but choose to keep her thoughts to herself only. She kissed Mama's cheek and said, "How I do wish you were going, Mama."

"How I might wish that myself, Mary," Mama said, "but at the moment, I side with your father on things." She cocked her head and said with a smile, "Some one of us has to. Sometimes I think it is hard to be the only man among four women."

"Well, with us there had to be a minority on one side," Mary said unfeelingly.

Edith received a quick peck from Mama; "Goodbye, Mama."

Cora, while composed, said with feeling, almost as if leaving a command to her daughters that they _must_ carry out, "Send Sybil my love. Tom, too."

Mary and Edith exchanged a look but nodded in affirmation. "Of course, Mama."

Carson handed first Edith into the car's carriage; her eyes looked past into the driver's seat; any look at her face told you how she longed to be sitting there, gloved hands clutching the steering wheel, back in the normal state of things.

When Carson handed Mary into the backseat, she met his eyes past her hat's brim. His face was full of sincerity. "Give Lady Sybil our love," he said.

Mary knew that behind him all the eyes of the assembled servants were on her. Mrs. Patmore and Daisy, who'd aided Sybil with learning kitchen skills. Anna and Thomas and O'Brien, who all recognized her courage and strength in aiding all the wounded officers ensconced at Downton Abbey during the Great War. Mrs. Hughes, who watched her grow into a fine young woman. All past Carson's shoulder stood these men and women who would never see Sybil's wedding at Downton Abbey as all had supposed all her life, but yet wanted her to be wed knowing that they were behind her all the way. Perhaps they felt betrayed by Tom (Carson especially, though he had the delicacy to not let it show), but they always hoped the best for Lady Sybil.

Mary nodded and seriously undertook the role of speaking for them to Sybil. "But of course."

Mary turned in her seat to look behind her as the car drove off, leaving the staff and Mama of Downton Abbey growing smaller and smaller in the distance. As she sat back in her seat, she muttered, "And Papa stays strong to the end."

"It's strange that cousin Matthew and Isobel weren't present to see us off," Edith mentioned offhand, knowing just how the name 'Matthew' rendered an insufferable effect on her sister.

Mary remained statue-like, except for her flashing eyes. She said, "Perhaps they are of the same mind as Papa about the matter."

"I wouldn't think so. Cousin Isobel can be so terribly Liberal, and Matthew isn't one to hold grudges," Edith said casually.

Mary almost rolled her eyes. _Oh, was he._ She'd barely spoken to him after Lavinia's death. Not that she could help it. He particularly actively avoided her, except when she was in the presence of Sir Richard Carlisle, when he'd make his appearance at just the right moments, like a knight in shining armor riding in to save her from her imprisoning dragon.

Mary shook her head free of such thoughts; stubborn Matthew Crawley and recalls of dashing knights saving damsels in the distress were incompatible images.

Within the hour Mary and Edith and luggage were loaded onto the train and sent west to the coast, where they'd board their ship and launch off for the green of Ireland. Perhaps it was the trust in their daughters to take care of themselves, or perhaps Robert didn't want to give more credit to the expedition than it was worth, but no maid accompanied Mary and Edith. They'd be led by the train and ship crew and then met up by Tom himself at the harbor. Robert said nothing but pressed his lips tightly together upon hearing _that_.

"It feels wrong, somehow, traveling somewhere without any servants," Edith said, making idle conversation after an hour went by without a single word exchanged between sisters. Sure, they talked to the train crew, giving up their tickets to be hole-punched and accepted cups of tea in plain china, but neither sister spoke to the other.

"I go to London all the time without them. Surely you would to, if you had a reason to be in London," Mary said, stirring her tea while looking searchingly out the window.

Edith took that stab and pulled back her own arrow. "How is Sir Richard? Still the only man who'll have you, since Matthew won't?"

Mary didn't throw up a tantrum, as she knew Edith desired to see. Her eyes rolled around to her sister's slightly smug face; she smiled. She said, "I shall take someone who'll have me over no one any day."

Edith's smugness fell; she almost broke her plain china cup with her vigorous stirring. "I'm excited for our first trip to Ireland. I cannot imagine what Sybil must be feeling—leaving dear old Downton Abbey for a foreign country."

"It's part of the UK, and just across the Irish sea besides," Mary dismissed breezily. Still, she said heavily, "Sybil's made a bold choice. I only hope she can live well with it."

"She'll have to. Besides, she'll be happy," Edith said brightly, sticking up for her opinionated yet loving baby sister. "She has Tom, hasn't she?" Her smile faltered once more; "She's about to get married to the man she loves wholeheartedly, who wholeheartedly loves her back."

Both sisters stared out the same window, watching Britain's pastures full of farmlands and grazing sheep and cows disappear in a flash. For once Mary shared no bitterness as she replied in turn to Edith, "Imagine that. That wish, being real." Her thoughts were consumed with Matthew—not with Richard, as they ought. She could share no real feeling of love or affection or even lust for Richard. Even he didn't warrant _that_. But Matthew—how could she keep drawing back to him as a magnet and he to her, and yet they could never have one another?

The entire ordeal was too terrible, too awful for words. And yet it remained as it was, there, to be dealt with. It could not be ignored. And Mary felt, while happy for her baby sister, envious of her ability to go out and make her future as she wanted it to be.

Edith, also, had a man on her mind. Or, rather, several men, men she'd loved from afar but could never have. Patrick Crawley, first Mary's, then the sea's and death's, then shoved in her face again before being whisked away, gone forever. Mr. Drake, a brief kiss, a wife's letter: gone. Anthony Strallan—wasn't she being obvious to him, just short of throwing herself at him? Could he not take a hint? Or did he perhaps not want her as he thought he did, when it came down to it?

One after the other, a man she couldn't have. She gave them her heart without a single regret, without any hesitation, and it got thrown to the ground, getting kicked up as it laid on the road, trodden upon and rained upon, left bloody and beaten. And yet, it still beat. It still lived, waiting.

"For all the fuss put on getting me married, it would be Sybil to be the first of the Crawley daughters married," Mary murmured softly.

"Honestly, good for her," Edith said firmly, hiding away her bleeding heart. "She persisted. She never stopped." Her voice dropped off, before she picked up quietly, "She only ever wanted one man, and she got him."

"What a luxury; what luck," Mary said softly.

Here they were, these sisters who fought at every opportunity, who only agreed on rare occasion, once again unified by the peacemaking effect of their younger sister. "Funny, how at the end, when it came down to it, it's only us two going there to support Sybil," Mary said.

Edith's smile showed just a little. "You know how steadfast Papa can be when he wants to." Here, a sigh. "Then, if we ever got married, he'd come to _our_ weddings."

"I'd rather marry the right man without Papa's blessing than the one I _should_ marry with him marrying us himself," Mary snapped bitterly.

Edith fumbled with this but concluded finally with, "I agree."

Mary thought of her marrying the wrong man and Edith thought of how she couldn't hear any wedding bells in her future and the attendant startled them both out of revelry by asking if they wanted more tea.

"No, thank you," they both muttered out of unison.

The sound of the train's steady climb, the chug of the engines, and the tooting of the horn filled the cracks of silence. Mary finally said, "I'm glad Tom loves her so. I'm glad Sybil's marrying the man she loves."

"I'm glad she's getting married," Edith said.

Neither sister were bitter toward Sybil, even as they swallowed the self-pitying lumps in their throat. Because of course, they were envious of Sybil, who had all they ever wanted. She gave up the comforts of Downton Abbey, her gentry life—the servants, the dresses, the comfort, even the approval of their parents, to live her life in a way as she could actually live with it. She won out, in the end. She got her Tom. But Mary didn't have her Matthew and Edith didn't have her Anthony, so even as they traveled to celebrate with love and happiness the love and happiness Sybil found herself the happy possessor of, Mary and Edith were bonded by this strange connection drawing them together. They were naturally rivaling, teasing, bitter sisters from childhood, but then, extenuating circumstances makes strange travel companions of us all.

For just one day, for one trip, without their parents, Mary and Edith could put aside their differences and draw strength from the other in solidarity, with empathy. Just this once.

 **I think Mary and Edith are more alike than they'd like to admit. They are sisters, after all.**

 **Thanks for reading! Review?**


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